Second Coming
by Undomiel Malfoy
Summary: Two years Post-Hogwarts Voldemort is rising again. As he adds to the ranks of Death Eaters, Draco finds himself in a position of power. Oh and one more catch. The entire wizarding world thinks Voldemort is dead. Chappy 4 is finally up!
1. Entry

Chapter 1: Entry  
  
Draco awoke with a start as he was pulled from his bed. His hands were bound with thick rope, he was blindfolded, and his voice was silenced with a gag. He struggled as he was forced from his room, down the front stairway, and out of the Malfoy mansion.  
  
His captors led him deep into the surrounding forest then they stopped. Then came the familiar pull at his navel that came only from transportation by way of portkey. When they arrived at their destination, Draco fell to the ground. He was roughly pulled to his feet by one of his captors, and then pushed into the firm grip of another.  
  
"Ah, I see that our brothers have returned successfully," said a voice, cold as ice, so cold that sent a chill down Draco's spine. "Avery, Dolohov, Crabbe, Goyle, Lestranges, Macnair, Mulciber, Nott, Rookwood, and Travers, my ever faithful servants. You have been called here on this night to witness the marking of the first of our new generation. The beginning of our Second Coming. Bring forth the boys"  
  
Draco was shoved through a crowd to where the voice was coming from.  
  
"Remove their restraints" The voice ordered.  
  
Draco's hands were unbound, the gag removed from his mouth, and finally, the blindfold lifted from his eyes.  
  
He blinked a few times before taking in his surroundings. The sky was black, lit only slightly by the few visible stars and the dim crescent moon over head. On the ground near Draco's feet was a fire that was burning bright blue. And all around him were black robed and hooded figures. Their faces were concealed, but he knew who they were, and he knew also whom the voice belonged to. Next to Draco stood several other boys, some of which he recognized others he did not. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle stood on either side of Draco looking just as confused as Draco felt.  
  
"Hold out your arm boy" Voldemort ordered a boy several paces away from Draco. The boy did not respond, but stood there frozen in his spot, looking around at the Death Eaters. "I said hold out your arm" Voldemort hissed  
  
"N-n-no" the boy mumbled  
  
"What did you say" The Dark Lord leaned in  
  
"No!"  
  
"Why?" He asked calmly. The boy seemed to gain confidence by Voldemort's calm acceptance of his refusal plunged on  
  
"I don't want to become a Death Eater. I don't want to end up like my father, killed by Aurors, or worse, locked up in Azkaban like Malfoy." There was a silence as Voldemort seemed to think about this.  
  
"Fine. You may go." Draco heard several stifled gasps of amazement from the boys around him. The Death Eaters parted so the boy might leave. Slowly the boy walked away from the group. He was almost to the edge of the group when there was a flash of green light. The light knocked the boy to the ground, where he lay unmoving.  
  
"If anyone else would not like to join me you are free to go." These words were followed by a threatening silence. No one moved  
  
"Good. Now that that is taken care of." The Dark Lord looked at the next person in line. "Hold out your arm."  
  
Draco watched as each person received the mark. Nearly all of them screamed. Draco didn't want the mark. He didn't want to end up in Azkaban. And he didn't want to serve a crazy master. But he didn't want to be dead either. There didn't seem to be many choices. Either receive the mark and die or don't receive the mark and die. The only difference was with one he would live longer and die with a scarred soul and the other he'd die immediately but with a reactively clean soul. Not that Draco cared much about souls anyway.  
  
It didn't matter his decision was already made, and Voldemort was approaching quickly.  
  
"Ah, Draco I have been looking forward to the day when you would join me. I think you will have great things to offer. In fact I leave the responsibility of leading these new Death Eaters to you. You father tells me you are a born leader. Do not let me down. If you do. well let us just say I don't have to have you to hurt you." It was obviously a thinly veiled threat on the life of anyone Draco cared for, namely his mother. "Hold out your arm"  
  
Draco swallowed hard and held out his arm.  
  
Voldemort drew a knife from the top of his scepter. Draco faced him staring into the cold, hard eyes, not blinking. Voldemort slid the razor sharp knife across the skin on the inside of Draco's arm, and then across his own fingertip. Crimson red blood flowed from the cut on Draco's arm, but only one single drop of black blood dripped from the Dark Lord's fingertip. It fell from his hand into the small pool of blood on Draco's arm. The black and the red blood swirled together for a moment, and then retreated back into Draco's arm. There was suddenly excruciating pain running up his arm, coursing through his body. Draco gritted his teeth, he would not scream. The pain built blacking out all of his other senses. The suddenly as it had begun it stopped. On his arm was the Dark Mark.  
  
Voldemort moved on down the line.  
  
In what seemed to be only moments, the rest of the boys bore the Dark Mark.  
  
"Remove your hoods" He said to the Death Eaters "Introduce yourself to our new allies." In one fluid motion the hood of every Death Eater fell back. Draco looked around at them, the people he'd known only from stories his father had told him. The people his father had made out to be heroes. They all introduced themselves to Draco, but there was really no need, he knew them all.  
  
"Now," said Voldemort "now that our new generation is rising, we must begin to plan for the future." There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd of Death Eaters. " Next we must mark the rest of the new generation, then, we will get Malfoy from Azkaban. Though, it will hurt him to hear of Rosier's son's weakness, Lucius treated that boy like his own."  
  
"B-b-b-but master" mumbled a voice quavering from behind Voldemort's chair "What about the Dementors, Master?"  
  
"Don't worry about that Wormtail" Voldemort said, "I will attend to them" 


	2. Home

Chapter Two: Home  
  
"Ron! Ron!" Hermione called from the kitchen of their apartment. "Ronald Weasley! If you don't get in here this instant we're not going to be there in time to meet Harry!"  
  
Before Hermione knew it, Ron was in the kitchen, coat in hand.  
  
"Let's go," he said, smiling at her and pulling on his coat.  
  
Hermione laughed and shook her head at her husband as they left the apartment.  
  
It had been just under two years since Ron had proposed to Hermione. Just under two years since Voldemort had finally been defeated. It had been the day of their graduation from Hogwarts and they had all just thrown their caps into the air when the Dark Mark appeared overhead. Before there was even time for the crowd to gasp, a horde of Death Eaters were upon them. The young children were rushed into the castle. Every fully trained witch or wizard at the service was up, fighting the Death Eaters.  
  
In the midst of the chaos and death, Ron had turned to Hermione and dropped to one knee. Hermione accepted instantly. Then they turned away from each other and went to fight the Death Eaters. Not long after, a team of Aurors apparated in. The force of Aurors and Hogwarts faculty converged to take on Voldemort. In unison they said the words that would destroy the Dark Lord. His ashes floated to the ground and were blown away in the wind. Voldemort, the arch nemesis of the free wizarding world, had been killed. Afterwards, the dead and wounded had been carried away, and Ron went to find Hermione.  
  
The conversation that had occurred when he found her was one that Hermione would never forget.  
  
"Hermione, I'm sorry," he'd said "I bought the ring some time ago, and I was planning on asking you at a more romantic time, and if you don't want to, we. we don't have to get married. It's just that when I saw the Dark Mark, I was scared that we would both die, and I didn't want to die without you knowing how I feel about you. But if you were scared to, or you were just being nice, then I understand. I just need you to know that I love you. I hope you feel the same, but if you don't-"  
  
"You'll never know if I do or don't if you don't stop babbling," she interrupted. Ron closed his mouth in what seemed to be an attempt to not say anymore.  
  
"Ron I do love you, and I would be honored to be your wife." Hermione had pulled the ring from her pocket and slipped it onto her finger.  
  
Hermione smiled at the memory of Ron's proposal as they walked into the lobby of the London Airport. Just as they entered the lobby, Harry walked through the entrance from the concourse and ran up to them.  
  
"It's great to see you two!" Harry said hugging Hermione. "How have you been? You've been keeping Ron in line since I left?" Hermione laughed and shook her head at Harry's little joke.  
  
"We've never been better," she said "How was your trip? How was America?"  
  
"How was the Quidditch?" Ron cut in.  
  
"I'm great, America was incredible in this odd, I-wouldn't-want-to live- there-but-it's-nice-for-a-visit way, and the Quidditch, Ron, let me tell you, it was nothing compared to games here. The Americans have this game called Quodpot where you throw around a quaffle that's enchanted so it will explode at random, and try to get it into this pot with a solution that keeps it from exploding; it's really quite odd to play. In any event, most of their Quidditch teams would be an easy win for all of the English and Irish league teams. Except maybe the Chudley Cannons." Harry's last remark was followed by a quick glance over at Ron, who in turn gave Harry a friendly push.  
  
"Watch it!" he said, laughing. "So how were the games?"  
  
Harry began to answer, but Hermione, who was inching ever closer to bored out of her mind, interrupted him.  
  
"Harry can tell you and your brothers all about it." She paused and smiled at Ron "When we get to the Burrow."  
  
Ron looked at Harry and shrugged, then the trio retrieved Harry's bags from the conveyer belt and set off for the Burrow.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Draco sat in the large black chair in his dimly lit study. Wondering, as he often did, how Lord Voldemort had survived that day almost two years ago.  
  
He remembered throwing his cap into the air and looking up to see the Dark Mark glowing above him. He remembered watching Voldemort come towards the school. He remembered the cries of witches and wizards dying. Then, he remembered hearing the spell be cast from multiple wands and mouths, and he remembered watching the ashes of the Dark Lord drift away in the breeze. He knew that the ashes were all that could have survived; the spell that had been cast had that effect. When cast on one person by a large group, it had results similar to those of burning a person's body.  
  
"But how?" he thought. "I watched him die, but I see him so often still, and there is no possibility of anyone's soul, no matter how powerful, living through that. And he would have had to get a hold of Potter again to get a body Besides, I'm quite certain Wormtail had ALL of his limbs intact the other night." He'd asked Antonin Dolohov and Quentin Avery repeatedly, but each time the response was the same: 'When the time is right, I'll tell you.'  
  
"Well, WHEN is the time going to be right? Once Voldemort is actually dead?" Draco took a sip of gin from his glass and continued to think. The frustration was growing stronger, and his glass was growing empty, when he sensed someone else in the room. Draco spun around in his chair and faced Antonin.  
  
"I think," he said, pausing ominously, "that the time is right."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
When Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at the Burrow, they were greeted by Fred and George, who were sitting on the front step.  
  
"Hallo, Harry!" said George. "It's about time you got here."  
  
"Mum's had us waiting here since noon!" Fred added in comical frustration. Hermione glanced down at her watch.  
  
It was now six o'clock.  
  
"You mean to tell me that you've been out here for six hours?" Hermione asked. Fred and George nodded.  
  
"Don't let them lie to you," said Ginny who was standing in the doorway with her hand on her hip, her red curls falling into her face. "Mum only sent them out here twenty minutes ago."  
  
"Well it FELT like six hours!" said Fred. Ginny rolled her eyes.  
  
"Whatever," she replied. "Mum said to tell you two that dinner is ready and on the table in the backyard. Come on, Hermione."  
  
"Well, you heard the woman!" said George "Lets go eat!"  
  
Once in the backyard they found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley setting food on the table, Bill and Charlie tossing around a quaffle on their brooms, and Percy, sifting through a large stack of papers.  
  
"Bill! Charlie! Harry's here!" Mrs. Weasley yelled before even turning around. "Hallo Harry!" she said. "Come on and get something to eat."  
  
Bill and Charlie landed their brooms, and everyone took a place at the long rectangular table. Hermione sat at the far end across from Percy, to her right were Ron and Harry. On the other side of the table to Percy's right sat Ginny, then Fred, George, Bill and Charlie who were all cramming together to be able to talk to Harry properly. At the opposite end of the table from Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat across from each other.  
  
After everyone had finished eating, the boys (minus Percy who hadn't even paused in his work to eat) got into a heated debate on Quidditch.  
  
"No way!" she heard Ron exclaim, "The Ballycastle Bats are sure to win! They've got Harry after all!"  
  
Hermione remembered the day Harry had gone for the Ballycastle Bats tryouts. Ron, Harry and herself had been living together in a flat in Dorchester when they got news of the Ballycastle Bats seeker, who was notoriously clumsy, crashing into the ground during practice while trying to do a Wronski Feint. Harry had immediately apparated to Ballycastle and had been given a tryout immediately. He'd made it, and the next day he moved to an apartment of his own in Ballycastle so that he could get to practice easier. Everyone had been happy for him, and he'd become completely enthralled by the job, often, missing events with Ron, Hermione, and the other Weasleys who were all like family to him.  
  
"He even came to my wedding in his Quidditch robes," Hermione thought.  
  
The boys continued their conversation, and Hermione turned to Ginny who was sitting, with her chin in her hands, seeming very bored.  
  
"What are you thinking about Gin'?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing." Ginny followed her statement with an irritated sigh.  
  
"You know you can't lie to me," Hermione said. "Did something happen with Adrian?"  
  
Adrian was Ginny's boyfriend of a year. Hermione always saw them as a perfect couple. Adrian seemed like perfect guy for Ginny, and Ginny was just what Adrian needed.  
  
"I...I..." Ginny stammered, "I broke up with Adrian yesterday."  
  
"Why?" Hermione was shocked; Ginny was always so happy with Adrian!  
  
He just isn't what I want anymore. I mean, he's a great guy, but..." Her voice trailed off for a moment while she seemed to collect her thoughts. "I want someone, something new and exciting! I want to go places, and meet people that I've never met before. I want to have my own life before I get stuck with someone for the rest of it."  
  
"She wants to go travel around with Harry," Percy muttered under his breath without even looking up from his papers.  
  
"I do not!" she shouted, and then in a quieter tone, she said "Well. maybe a little." Ginny's face flushed bright pink. Percy shook his head at her while still consumed by his work.  
  
"Aren't you going to eat anything, Percy?" Hermione asked.  
  
"No," was the only answer she got from Percy.  
  
"Percy never eats anymore," Ginny whispered. "All he ever does is work, work, work, work, work."  
  
Percy looked up from his papers.  
  
"I'll have you know that I had a very large lunch with Penelope today, and besides, these are very important papers that I need to get into Minister Fudge by Monday! And it's SATURDAY already!"  
  
"Oh, come off it, Percy," said Bill from the other side of the table. "I swear, one of these days you'll work yourself to death."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Draco refilled his glass with gin and waited for his father to speak.  
  
"The person you watched die was not Lord Voldemort." Said Antonin  
  
"You've got a very firm grip on the obvious, I see". Draco thought, though he knew better than to vocalize that thought. Antonin had been particularly edgy for the past month, and Draco wasn't anxious to find out what would happen if he crossed the line.  
  
"We chose a decoy, someone who was willing to die for the cause. The whole day was planned out perfectly in advance, and for once it came off perfectly, as well. We hid in the Forbidden Forest while the ceremony was in progress, then, the second you walked onto the stage, I gave the decoy polyjuice potion that was made with our Lord's hair. Then, when your caps began to leave your heads, I summoned the Dark Mark over the crowd. When you threw your caps, there was a collective gasp. That was the signal for the other Death Eaters to converge on the ceremony. Once they left, we waited for exactly fifteen minutes, then I sent the decoy off towards the crowd, watched him for just long enough to ensure that he made it all the way down. And returned to Him."  
  
"So you didn't kill anyone? You let your "brothers" go down there and die?"  
  
"Yes," Antonin responded vaguely. "Understand, Draco, that death and killing are messy businesses; those of us with the power, leave the danger to those without," Antonin turned to leave the room, then stopped and looked back at Draco. "You'd also do to remember that for the cause, everyone is expendable."  
  
With that, Antonin left the study. 


	3. Morning

Chapter 3: Morning  
  
"Tomorrow, we will be retrieving Lucius from Azkaban. I want you to be the first person he sees -- and you to inform him of Marcel Rosier's disrespect for his master."  
  
Narcissa stood in the hallway outside of Lucius' study, listening to the conversation occurring between Quentin Avery and Lord Voldemort.  
  
"Yes, master." She heard Quentin reply in a humble tone reserved for use only around her master.  
  
"And, I want you to bring young Draco. There are some things I think he should experience there."  
  
"Yes, master."  
  
"That is all I wish to say to you. The rest of your orders will come tomorrow morning at the meeting."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
When Quentin exited the study, Narcissa stepped out from the wall directly into his path.  
  
"Good evening, Narcissa." his tone returned to its usual arrogance.  
  
"You will not take MY child to that place."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"He looks up to you, Quentin! Don't you understand he'd do whatever it takes to please you, no matter what trouble he may get in? He doesn't understand the consequences, but you do! I won't let you to take my child into immediate danger!"  
  
"The boy needs to learn what power can do."  
  
"The boy?" Narcissa snapped. "Quentin, you promised Lucius you'd watch over Draco as your own."  
  
"Yes. And as he is MY responsibility, I shall do as I wish with him."  
  
"He will NOT go to that place!"  
  
"He will and that is final, Narcissa." Quentin turned and strode past her calling behind him. "Now, get yourself to bed.We are meeting here tomorrow before we leave for Azkaban. I need you up, and as presentable as you can possibly be. Good night."  
  
............................................................................ .....................................  
  
Draco slept fitfully that night. His mind was continually ringing with Antonin's words.  
  
"Expendable." The whole speech was a warning. On the obvious level, it said to keep in line because even he wasn't safe; below that, a crystal clear message stated that he would see many of the people he considered friends at Hogwarts fall victim to "The Cause." It was a shuddering thought: all the people he knew as family for seven years - dead. These thoughts lingered in his mind as he finally drifted into a half-sleep.  
  
In his dreams, Draco saw himself as an old man moving steadily to his death. He was walking through one of the various hallways of the Mannor. The walls, as always, covered with portraits of his ancestors. A nearly deafening silence filled the house: no pit-pat of feet, no music, no signs of any life in the house but his own. While exploring the rest of the dream Manor, he found no sign of any life having been their for quite some time. Draco also knew, in the way people know things in dreams, that nothing but him would ever be living in the manor again.  
  
Draco snapped out of the dream upon realizing that there was nothing alive in the house but him.  
  
"So that's to be my future?" he questioned himself. "Alone, for all of my days."  
  
Long moments passed as he pondered this.  
  
"No." He came to a silent conclusion. "I will need an heir. A child born purely of necessity."  
  
Not a pleasant thought by any stretch of the imagination, but it would have to do. The Mark was a part of his very flesh and blood, and there was no going back.  
  
"And besides," Draco thought, "love and religion are for the weak-- for those lacking power to control their own destinies."  
  
That was the final thought that passed through Draco's mind before he was overcome by the need to sleep.  
  
............................................................................ .................................  
  
"Draco, Draco darling, wake up!"  
  
Narcissa stood next to Draco's bed, shaking him with as much force as she could.  
  
"Draco!" Each passing second was another Death Eater nearer to her house, another opportunity for Quentin and Antonin to become angry with her. "Come on, Draco! Your father's - associates - are going to be here any second!"  
  
Draco sat up, blinking.  
  
"What?" His tone was similar to that of a teenager with a hang over.  
  
Narcissa glowered. "Come on now, get yourself clean and into your robes. You're going with your father today."  
  
............................................................................ ...............................  
  
Mornings at the Burrow were always Hermione's favorite times. It was very refreshing to wake up to the smell of Molly Weasley's excellent cooking. She would climb out of her bed and, while still in her pajamas, wander downstairs to help prepare breakfast. On her way down she passed the rooms where Harry, Ron, and any number of assorted Weasleys could be found, sleeping. While at the Burrow, Ron and Hermione never slept in the same bed. Not because Molly or Arthur had a problem with it, but after so many years of friendship, their usual sleeping arrangements just felt right.   
  
After breakfast was ready, and everyone had ambled downstairs, they would all sit together at the table outside and discuss everything from Ministry business, to Quidditch. Hermione didn't often join the conversation. She preferred to simply sit and absorb the warm family feeling, and wonder what it must have been like to grow up in such a large family.  
  
However, breakfast had passed, and Hermione was eager to leave. It wasn't that she disliked staying with Ron's parents; in fact she always enjoyed it. But at the moment, she wanted to get home and do some work.  
  
"Nice car," said Charlie who had just come from inside of the house.  
  
"Thanks, I got it for work -- Muggle Relations and all."  
  
"I'll bet Ron loves it; he always had a thing for the old Ford Anglia. That is, until he and Harry lost it in the forbidden forest." Charlie laughed.  
  
"Yes, he is quite fond of it. You should hear him sometimes. He's like a Muggle teenager begging to take the car out for a drive."  
  
"You let him drive it?"  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"You're braver than I gave you credit for."  
  
............................................................................ ..............................  
  
Draco stood in between Quentin and Antonin and watched as each of the Death Eaters entered the vestibule of his home. One by one they walked to Lord Voldemort, muttering Latin words the whole way. Upon reaching him they would drop to one knee, hold out their left arm, and place the second and third fingers of their right hands upon the mark. Each would shudder, bow their head for a moment, then rise and join the line of Death Eaters in complete silence.  
  
The number of times Draco had seen this procession since his fourth year in Hogwarts was too great for him to even imagine. Every other time however, he'd watched from the top of the stairs with his mother. This would be the first time he participated in the gathering, and he found himself nearly bubbling with the excitement of it. This ceremony meant that he was one of them; he had this extra support, this second family of sorts. These were his people. The ceremony showed loyalty, and dedication. Though deep in his mind all of the ceremony seemed rather superfluous, he would not question it. He believed that the ceremony's purpose was to bring all of the Death Eaters together. So they could have common experiences.  
  
In the row of Death Eaters, Draco saw Crabbe and Goyle standing next to each other in the supposedly menacing pose they had perfected while in Hogwarts; nearby, their fathers stood in a similar manner. Blaise Zabini and his father were there. As were countless other father/son duo's. Near to the end of the row, Pansy's father stood alone; being one of the only Death Eaters with no male children must have been hard on him. Or perhaps it was the opposite.  
  
Before the thought could fully form in Draco's mind, Quentin and Antonin grabbed him by the sleeves and pulled him to where Lord Voldemort sat. There was an odd pause as Quentin and Antonin dropped to the floor. How subservient they were in the presence of the Dark Lord, had always awed Draco; he simply watched as they knelt. Suddenly, Draco realized what he was supposed to be doing; he immediately dropped to his knee and did as all of the others had done.  
  
The second Draco's fingers touched his Dark Mark he shuddered. A feeling of ultimate power swelled within him. He felt as if there was nothing he couldn't do, and he loved it.  
  
"In fact," he thought, "if it weren't for this annoying twinge of guilt in the back of my mind, this would be perfect."  
  
"Don't worry, that will pass." An icy voice spoke.  
  
"What? Who are you? How are you in my mind?"  
  
"You do not recognize your masters voice?"  
  
"Oh, Master, I am sorry."  
  
"I will let it pass this time, but let it not happen again."  
  
"Yes, master."  
  
As suddenly as the feeling had come, it left. Draco tried in his mind to ask Voldemort why the feeling had left -- he never wanted it to leave -- but the connection, too, was lost.  
  
"My children," Voldemort said loudly. There was a muted thud. A quick glance around told Draco that it had come from the entire crowd of Death Eaters re-assuming the kneeling position.  
  
"Today, we will be visiting Azkaban prison. We will return in the company of our old colleague, Lucius Malfoy. For those of you who remember the last time we visited Azkaban, the Dementors will be no problem. So, All I want you to do is go with Quentin to find Lucius, and anyone else who is willing to join us, Bellatrix, and Rodulphus will lead the way but I want Quentin to be the first to see Lucius. Do I make myself clear?" There was a murmur of agreement then the Dark Lord started back into his speech. "You are the people who have been chosen to do the good work and fight the good fight. You have been selected to cleanse our world of muggles who have oppressed us for years. They are the reason we must hide; they are the reason. Remember this and nothing can stop you. Nothing. Now, let us go to Azkaban."  
  
There was a large collective pop as the Death Eaters rose from the floor and vanished from the room, as if controlled by one mind.  
  
Draco looked up at Quentin.  
  
"Come on Draco, we're going to go get your father back."  
  
After taking one quick look around the now empty room, Draco followed suit and vanished with a pop. 


	4. Only In Dreams

*Well, the wait is over! The Day has arrived. Yeah.none of you are that excited about this huh? Oh well. I wrote more! Finally! It's very short I warn you. I own nothing except for the stuff I made up yaddah yaddah. Oh! And a special thanks to Daroga's Rainy Daae, and Pache who have encouraged me to write more all of this time. Lavah to you!  
  
And now the story.  
  
Chapter 4: Only In Dreams  
  
Harry awoke in a cold sweat, a feeling of dread and panic inside of him. He shook himself, it was just a dream, any idiot could see that he was safe in his bed. Safe in the comfortable house of his two best friends. Safe, because the only one who had ever really hurt him was dead. Harry climbed out of bed and ambled to the kitchen for a drink of water.  
  
"It was just a dream." He told him self repeatedly, "Just a dream."  
  
But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.  
  
"Harry you're being stupid." He thought. "Voldemort died, you know that, you were there. Suck it up and go back to bed."  
  
He wandered back into his room and wrapped himself back up in the blankets. Soon, with fleeting memories of the day Voldemort had been defeated in his head he fell back into the deep sleep, which had brought him the troublesome dreams in the first place.  
  
Red eyes flashed into his sleeping sight, only to be quickly replaced by a ghostly image of Azkaban prison. White blond hair, then piercing ice blue eyes. Then finally a single black rose falling towards green grass coated in puddles of crimson blood.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****  
  
His first sighting of Azkaban prison stole Draco's breath from him. It was immense, and you could feel the total absence of happiness as if it were tangible, as if at any moment you would cease to exist from the sheer weight of it upon your soul. The only thing that gave him strength to stay in this hellish place was the promise of his father, being able to see him once more, to hear his voice, and maybe to receive what Lucius rarely gave, the warm embrace of a father as can only be given to his son.  
  
Following closely behind Quentin, Draco made his way up to the prison. Occasionally one of the Dementors would float by, but they never did pay any attention to Quentin, or those behind him.  
  
Draco felt the dread inside of him stronger than he had ever before. Beyond the door that Quentin now held open there was no happiness, no light, only painful memories and dark. Quentin placed his hand on Draco's shoulder as to re-assure him that he was there and nothing would go wrong.  
  
Timidly Draco placed a foot inside of the prison, and then he drew the other in with it. Slowly, one step at a time, Draco made his way into the prison. Quentin followed, and as soon as it was possible, he shut the door behind Draco.  
  
"Come now men! Follow closely." Quentin called to the others, who had already made it into the prison.  
  
Through winding hallways of damned souls the made their way as quickly as they could, but not so quickly that they could not see those who were already damned, those who they might join one day.  
  
"Here it is." Quentin said walking to the door of the room that Lucius was being kept in. Far too dangerous a criminal to be kept in a cell like the rest, he had stayed alone in this room for over four years. "Come Draco." Quentin said quietly, "We'll enter together."  
  
*Oh! Such a tease I am. Don't worry.it won't be another six months until you see something else.I just wanted to spark your interest a bit and get my flow back for this story. More to come soon! 


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